


Day 2: Belie

by blackstar



Series: 30 day writing challenge [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Aftermath of Violence, Alive Erica, BAMF Stiles, First Kiss, Hurt Stiles, Let's just say everyone is alive, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1950741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackstar/pseuds/blackstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belie</p><p>be•lie (bɪˈlaɪ)<br/>v.t. -lied, -ly•ing.</p><p>1. to show to be false; contradict<br/>2. to give a false impression of; misrepresent.<br/>3. to be false to or disappoint</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 2: Belie

**Author's Note:**

> Day two, yay! 
> 
> This is a sequel to Asphalt, part 1 of my challenge. 
> 
> Also, this is definitely not going to be all a single fic, all 30 days, but my friends liked the first one and they wanted a sequel and yeah. Tutsi, this one's for you!

Being shot in the leg really killed one’s mood to be active and do things. To be more precise, it killed one’s ability to do almost all of said things, not the mood or desire, but for Stiles the two went hand in hand.

The last three months were filled with people trying to help him do even the most trivial of things – even things he had no trouble doing, everyone from the pack and his dad rushed to his rescue. They apparently needed to thrust the remote in his hand or bring him snacks or help him gather his things in the end of a class. It was completely unnecessary and honestly annoying, and Stiles didn’t know how to put an end to the whole affair.

Erica was the one ‘on duty’ right now, watching him like a hawk from the other side of the library table, while he was studying. She had an open book in front of her, psychology, from what Stiles had seen, but she was blatantly ignoring it in favor of watching Stiles as if he was going to disappear into thin air if she looked away. After the whole fiasco a month ago, when he tried to hide from the pack for a day to get a breather, and instead got the worried glare of Scott and Derek not talking to him for a week, alongside a hit or ten from the others; he was not eager to try again.

Reading proved to be a really hard activity when someone’s stare was boring into your face, Stiles noted to himself, uselessly. He closed his biology textbook with a thump and looked up to meet Erica’s deep brown eyes.

“Are you not going to at least pretend you’re reading? Just for a minute?” Stiles whispered loudly, harshly, trying his hardest to glare at the innocent expression of Erica’s face. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, a couple of her curly blonde locks framing her face. She pouted.

“I don’t need it, Peter’s teaching me later.” She replied in a normal tone. Stiles was about to tell her off when he noticed they were the only two people in the library, together with a boy with glasses in the other end of the hall. He didn’t know the guy but he looked even older than them, maybe he transferred as a senior. Though, Stiles would have known, being the Sherriff’s son and all that. He backtracked in his mind, completely shocked and whipped his head back at Erica.

“Peter’s WHAT?” he asked, incredulous that Peter would be willing to be of any help to any one individual without some sort of cost. Talking to Peter for Stiles was a very serious undertaking, as he was sure any dealings with the older werewolf came with some sort of a price. It was basically like dealing with the Devil, you had to be careful what you would and could believe and how much an advice would cost you. Now he was giving lessons to Scott’s betas?

“You don’t need to yell, Stiles.” Erica rolled her eyes. “Derek’s making him help us. He said Peter was a really good tutor to him and his sisters when they were younger and he thought we could use the help, with all of the… you know, extracurricular activities going on in our lives.” She winked and turned the unread page of her textbook nonchalantly, gaze still unmoving from him.

“He’s doing that… willingly? Like, not charging you money or secrets or parts of your souls?” Stiles continued. Erica laughed.

“Well, Derek said his mother was the one who made Peter tutor them with her alpha glare but now I think he does it mostly out of… some strange nostalgia maybe.” Erica smiled fondly, looking away from Stiles for the first time in a while. “It’s cool. We all get our turns, because we have different problems and stuff but it… it feels kind of like something a pack would do. You should come too, some day. Derek said you and Lydia probably wouldn’t need any tutoring since you handle school even when everything goes to shit. But it would still be cool. We could have a common math session or something.” She looked so earnest, Stiles couldn’t deny her the pleasure:

“You know Lydia would be correcting Peter all the time, right? Even when he hasn’t made any mistakes?” Erica laughed then, a fresh and melodic sound ringing in the air. The librarian showed her head from over one isle of books, giving them a stern look. Stiles pulled Erica’s psychology and shut it, stacking it on top of his book and trying to get up while holding the two books. He failed and almost let out a moan of pain when he put pressure on his wounded leg. Erica was next to him in a second, arms strong around his shoulders, holding him in place. Stiles exhaled deeply and took another breath before speaking, his voice shaking just a bit: “I’m fine, sorry. Sorry, really.”

“Oh my god, Stiles. Don’t be sorry, are you okay?” Erica stepped in front of him, letting go of his shoulders. Stiles shook his head and noticed the gaze of the boy from the other end of the library was on him. He needed to get out of here before he could feel any more humiliated than this. He took the books from where he left them, on the table, and gave them to Erica with a smile.

“I’m fine. Can you get these to the front desk and I’ll catch up in a second.”

“You sure? I can get the books in one hand if you need any help. With anything else.” She looked towards his crutch, the one he couldn’t get rid of because his wound wasn’t healing as planned, and then back at him, a smile trying to hide the worry in her eyes. He tried his hardest not to swear and not to flip out at his inability to go back to normal and everyone’s inability to look at him like a capable human being lately. Instead, he huffed and smiled his brightest smile at Erica, pushing her away gently.

“I’m sure. Go leave the books so the librarian doesn’t mope later.” Erica nodded and walked briskly towards the front desk, throwing back worried glances. While she was waiting for the librarian to get to her through the isles, Stiles got up slowly, taking his crutch to help him along. When he turned, he noticed the guy in the back had lowered his glasses and was looking at Erica intensely. It wasn’t anything new, guys checking Erica out, but there was something about this guy. He looked like he didn’t belong, like he was trying extra hard to blend in. His dark hair was muffled in a strange one-sided way and a dusting of stubble was making him look rough around the edges. Stiles though: shady. He started walking towards Erica, who was ready with the books and was looking out the window, a bright smile tugging at her lips.

“Look, Stiles, Derek came to pick us up!” she squealed, louder than he would advise, and got a mean look from the librarian, but Stiles couldn’t help but smile in response, looking at the window. Suddenly, though, there was movement from the table with the shady guy and in a flash, he was standing next to the window, a gun aiming at the sleek Camaro. Stiles didn’t have time to yell, only to take a deep, shocked breath, before the first shot was fired. Erica sprang into action before him, partly because she was a werewolf and partly because he wasn’t able to move a lot in his current condition, not exactly able to leap over tables and chairs and fly towards an attacker. He yelled “get down!” for the librarian, and saw her obliging, while he was watching in horror as the guy shot four more bullets towards Derek’s car before Erica got to him, all claws and power.

A murderous coldness flew through Stiles’ veins as he stepped closer to the heap in which Erica was fighting the guy. He was pushing at her with both hands and trying to get his gun in a position to fire at her, while she was trying to get her claws to his neck. All thoughts of Derek out in his car, possibly very hurt, Stiles pushed aside while grabbing his crutch with both hands deliberately and making a few steps almost without feeling the sharp licks of pain. He swung once, hitting the guy, who was completely concentrated on Erica, in the head with a strong blow. He went out in the same second, gun dropping in Stiles’ feet.

Stiles felt like a little boy in the seconds that followed, scared out of his mind from the gun, terrified for Derek’s life like he had been for his own, that day in the woods. The door behind him hit the wall as it opened and Stiles turned to face Derek, who was bleeding, it seemed, from more than one place but was conscious and alive and standing, eyes shock-wide, and panting as if running here was enough to make his pulse rise. Stiles mindlessly tried at getting to him but the pain in his leg was overcoming the adrenaline rush and he barely took two steps before going for the ground. He wound up in Derek’s arms, both of them a heap on the ground, in an awkward, bruising, tight hug.

“Where did he hit you?” Stiles managed, while he was trying to find Derek’s wounds with his hands, touching his shoulders and chest frantically.

“Stiles” Derek stopped him, taking hold of his hands, making him look up to see the wide blue-green eyes flash to electric blue “Stiles, I’m fine, he didn’t hit me.” Derek looked up then, seeking Erica, Stiles guessed, and smiled “You okay?” he asked over Stiles’ shoulder.

“Yea, Derek. I’m fine. You should have seen Stiles, though, you came a second too late.” Erica had a smile in her voice and she came closer to the two. Stiles was refusing to let go of Derek’s shirt, still fighting the image of the guy’s gun shooting out the window. She kneeled next to them stroking Stiles’ head. “Thanks, Batman.” She cooed and then placed a kiss on top of Derek’s head. “Glad you’re okay, you gave me a scare too.” She added, almost too quiet for Stiles’ ears. “You two are adorable, by the way.” And with that she left.

Stiles heard Derek telling something comforting to the librarian and added an instruction to call 911. Stiles knew that call would lead to his father coming and that was what snapped him back to adequacy. He lifted his head from where it was resting on Derek’s shoulders and looked the older man straight in the eyes, his hands lifting to frame the werewolf’s face. One of his thumbs was absent-mindedly stroking along Derek’s stubble while his other hand was wiping away some of the blood off of Derek’s face. In return, Derek was just looking at him expectantly.

“So if he didn’t shoot you, where’s the blood from?” Stiles asked finally.

“Pure luck, I swear. I was leaning down to get a coin from the floor when the bullets started falling. I got scraped by a couple of the broken glass pieces. It already healed. I’m okay.” Derek smiled, his hands reaching around Stiles’ middle. Their hug now felt more like Stiles taking up all of Derek’s personal space, sitting awkwardly in his lap, his left leg bent at the middle, while his right was outstretched around Derek. It felt intimate and needed, after all of the walking around this. “So what did you do?” Derek nodded toward the unconscious body near the window. Stiles motioned to his crutch on the ground:

“My crutch is my new baseball bat, apparently. Hit him over the head while Erica was on top of him, wasn’t really anything spectacular.”

“ _He spoke roughly in order to belie his air of gentility._ ” Derek answered, as if that was a real answer. Stiles’ eyebrows shot up in question. “It’s from The Dubliners. Never mind.”

“Did you just use a quote with the word ‘belie’ in it to describe me?” Stiles laughed “What year is this, 1820?” he shook with his laughter, grip around Derek loosening. He started calming down and with that started feeling embarrassed of their position. The last time they had talked about their… thing – Stiles’ general thing towards Derek was left unmentioned while Derek’s thing for him, was slightly touched upon. Ever since that time, right before his drug-induced haze and sleep, he’d felt too embarrassed to talk about it with Derek, and, moreover, the two were never alone in a room, always Scott there to have gotten Stiles there or one of the betas, or, creeping from somewhere Stiles could still sense him, Peter. Now, he was laughing in Derek’s lap, their hands wrapped around each other as if they were lovers. Stiles felt himself redden. He tried to squirm away, which proved a painful activity before Derek’s grip on him tightened and he had to look up and meet Derek’s gaze once again.

“Um, so, maybe we should get up? Before my dad gets here to cuff the shady guy. You know him, by the way?” Derek nodded but didn’t make any move to get up.

“Yeah. Remember the psycho hunter?” Derek motioned toward his leg. Stiles made his best “yes, of course I remember the bitch who shot me and is still making me suffer daily” face. “That’s her brother over there. Michael, if I remember correctly. He wasn’t in the family business last time I checked, wanted to become a lawyer. I guess something changed his mind.”

“His sister dead? Yeah, I guess that would work for me too. But the way he decided to shoot at you… that was weird. Not me, not Allison, who actually killed his sister. Why you?” Derek paused, looking aside. “Derek?”

“Maybe he was trying to hurt you the way he thought you hurt him?”

“He thought you were my brother?” Stiles maybe sounded a bit offended. “We look nothing alike, my god, look at you” he motioned at the general figure of Derek before doing the same towards himself “and look at me.”

“Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” Derek laughed for a second before stopping abruptly. “I don’t think he thought I was your brother. I don’t think anyone thinks I’m your brother, Stiles.”

“Exactly what I was saying, right? Because we look nothing al--” he was stopped with Derek’s lips over his, soft and wet (maybe with blood) and insistent. He didn’t react for a second, shocked out of a reaction. Derek pulled away and looked in Stiles’ eyes.

“No, Stiles. Because everyone thinks I’m your boyfriend. Because he was trying to hurt… someone you care for.” Stiles blinked a couple of times, frozen to all other movements and then he scooted closer to Derek, pushing his nose against his. His mind was running through the last couple of months and the insistent presence of Derek in his life. He was there maybe more than Scott was, which was honestly an achievement. Derek was there every day, picking him up from school or driving him to the supermarket, or watching a movie along him and Scott. Sometimes they touched, little things which burned through Stiles’ skin a little, but he was too overwhelmed with his leg and his denial to go and examine what was happening. Stiles’ mind went to that second before Michael started shooting, he was watching him smile at the news that Derek had come, probably goofily. Maybe after watching them for a day of two, the guy got the wrong idea…

“Do that again, I barely felt it through the shock. Derek Hale, my boyfriend.” He huffed a smile before tilting his head slightly, getting his mouth closer to Derek’s. “Who would have known.” He said before touching his lips to Derek’s again. This time, he closed his eyes and let instinct and emotion and Derek lead him through the kiss. The kiss, which deepened and became more intense with every second, Derek’s arms tightening their hold on Stiles’ middle, going up and down his spine. Their tongues touched and that startled a moan out of Stiles, as he tried to get closer to Derek, arms searching Derek’s shirt for an opening in which to touch bare skin.

They parted when they heard the police sirens coming closer. Sties thought Derek must have heard them earlier but decided to ignore them.

“Help me up?” Stiles asked, his gaze weirdly focused on Derek’s face. Their hands found each other and they gripped each other as they got up and got Stiles’ crutch somehow without leaving each others’s stare. “So this is that thing we were talking about in the hospital?” Stiles finally said, drawing closer to Derek again. It was hard to keep away, to be honest. Derek nodded. “Just so you know, I have a thing about you too.” He smiled and leaned in to meet Derek’s matching smile.

The next thing that broke them away was his father clearing his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thanks for reading! I'd love to talk to you guys in the comments!
> 
> Next word is board, for tomorrow.


End file.
